


the sky is still blue

by shihoran



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:59:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihoran/pseuds/shihoran
Summary: When Jean Moreau opened his eyes, the sight had him believe he was already dead.[ This fic is about Jean dealing with the consequences and events after being rescued from Castle Evermore, his first time meeting Jeremy, his reaction to Riko at the end of TKM, and JereJean bonding times in general. Chapters may have timeskips in between. ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to work on sth else before the Riko POV fic drives me insane, and Jean didn’t even make an appearance there yet.  
> Lowkey Canon Divergence, because I’m actually not entirely clear on the timeline, hah.  
> Three chapters planned for the three major events I want to write about, though who knows if that's definite.

When Jean Moreau opened his eyes, the sight had him believe he was already dead.

It was the sky, clear and endless, and so very blue, that he dared not to close his eyes again in fear the colour might vanish, and when he opened them again, the sight would have been replaced by nothing but dark and red walls and electrical light. He was, however, obliged to blink when the saturation and brightness hurt his eyes so much they watered. His eyelids fluttered, while he tried to make sense of it all, but it didn’t quite add up just yet. The last memory he had was of fists and boots raining down on his body; his own voice echoing through the room as he tried to beg for mercy for the first time in years; and the cold, hard floor. His body went cold and stiff from it, a ragged breath was drawn in and carefully out, as he held still and eased himself back into the situation at hand. He hadn’t been aware of his location just now, too eagerly had he already accepted his wish granted in the afterlife. 

Eyes explored and found bandages around his hands and arms and his chest and, frankly, his mind in connection to the rest of his body felt strangely out of touch. With effort he raised a hand to touch his face. It was covered in bandages as well, his nose was stiff and he could register a faint whistling everytime he breathed. When he touched around more, he discovered more wounds and possibly cuts where skin had broken, that had been taken care of and covered up. He let his hand sink and his eyes wander around the room now. There was nothing familiar about this room safe for the sickbed, another kind of, but they were used in the same way, no matter the design or location. Was it really luck, he wondered, that Riko didn’t kill him this time? Some poor soul must have gotten a hand on his mangled excuse of a body and Jean was certain that it was not under Riko’s orders. Those last hits were meant to end him for good.

At that thought, he shuddered again, but felt the discomfort vehemently rolling through his body with every second he was awake. There was no indication of how long he had been disconnected from the waking world and he still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all a dream, or a bad joke. A really bad, cruel joke befitting someone like Riko. Before he could put further thoughts into it, the door on the opposite side of the room opened and a familiar light haired girl with pastel patches at the tips entered, eyes widening in surprise to find him awake. Apprehension passed like a ghost and was replaced by a soft smile spread from her mouth to her eyes, as she made her way towards him.

“Good morning, Jean.”, she said quietly, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. Confusion came over him even more strongly, but he couldn’t deny that his heart made a jump when he knew her close. “I’m glad you woke up. I’m sure you have questions, but… I will tell you everything, when you’re more up to it.”  
Jean closed his eyes, concerning himself with the question if she would just disappear after he opened his eyes again, and was now more pleased than surprised when she was still with him. He found her fingers touched his, warm and soft, and so careful as if he’d break away under her touch. “No.”, he returned after a while. “I need to know. Tell me.”

Renee didn’t bat an eye at his request, but instead did her best to deliver what had happened to him; how she was able to retrieve him from Castle Evermore, what wounds were inflicted on him, what kind of treatment he received and who took care of him, where he was, who knew that he was here. She also told him about his almost immediate flight response after waking up in between, realizing where he was and especially who he was not with, and trying to escape back to Castle Evermore. Renee was able to hold him back every time until he passed back out. There was a sliver of an emotion, something that he didn’t quite know or was willing to name yet when he became aware that, at least for now, he was out of reach from Riko. Truth be told, though, his mind wandered off to the next action taken in regards to his seemingly inevitable fate of either returning to Riko in an act of self preservation - and who knows what the consequences would be when Master Moriyama and Riko would accuse him of pointing fingers at them and pressing charges. Jean knew- or spend a life running away, in the like of Kevin Day and to another extent Nathaniel Wesninski, but he had nothing and no one to run to and even lesser the means to get by on his own. He swallowed hard; his head feeling like it would split in two. He had his eyes tracing her features and indulging in the soft touch, as he slipped away into slumber.

-

The days that followed were perceived in only short windows of time, when his dreams took him places he didn’t want to go, or when he simply woke up, but the fact of being awake and very much alive was already enough make him feel like he was overstepping lines, that drained all the energy left in him. He felt like he was overstaying his welcome, and he would surely, next time his eyes fell shut, not wake up anymore. But that doubt never came to fruition, never amounted to anything, and the further away in time he got from his first time waking up and being aware of it, the more it eased - but never quite. 

Jean thought about Riko, thought about the violence, thought about the spite, thought about how years had shapen him into someone who adapted, but was never safe from those hands. He thought about how Renee had asked him about how he would like to deal with the press that were going wild in his absence, after that interview when Kevin hinted at the cause for his broken hand. Jean shuddered at the memory and would have emptied his stomach if he had eaten anything that day. The foxes’ nurse, who insisted on being called Abby, checked on him about twice a day, bringing him food and painkillers and helped him change out of his clothes, and bandages the first days, until the latter of those were removed entirely. Admittedly, he had checked the mobility of his feet and legs and mapped out what it would take him to leave the place, and how he would reach out to Riko or any other Raven to pick him up, but the juggling of logistics and lacking ressources, and, most important of all, the thought of returning to Riko, because he knew no other way to survive this, had brought a desperate burn behind his eyes. But even that never amounted to anything.

His marred hands were pale againt white sheets. His body felt strange to him, even though he recognized the pain very well as his own, but the fact that he was still wrestling with being alive just obscured any connection he had with his own body. Jean leaned further into the pillow, eyes finding their way back to the sky. The sight had startled him every time he woke up at any time the sun was out. There was something about the endless stretch of horizon right before him that threatened to choke him, stopping him in his mental jog down a spiral into hell. Maybe that was why he had been focused on it, for so long his eyes started to hurt.

It was a mental and physical strain to stand on his own two feet. The bruises ached with every movement, though he had braced himself already for the chance of passing out on the spot. Again, he was wrong. His head did spin dangerously wild, but it was just after a few moments that he was able to shuffle his feet to the door and into the hallway. It was wide, empty and the walls were coloured in some grey pastel, looking too soft to be true in comparison to what he was used to. After moving around for a while, he found Abby in the kitchen, preparing a meal. “Miss..”, Jean started, but remembered her stare, when he asked for her surname and settled for her preference. “Abby.”

The woman turned away from the stove and looked at him, surprise ghosting over her features, before quiet, almost angry, concern spread all over. “I’m not sure if I allowed you to get up yet.”  
Jean almost startled away, but held his ground. “My phone… I’d like to have it back.”  
“And why is that?” She gave him a raised eyebrow, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “I’m not going to let you call the people who did this to you and let yourself get beaten into a bloody pulp again; and when you need to call Renee, you don’t have to. She’s been visiting you every day since you came here.” His mouth felt dry at the blatant display of concern from both women, opened his mouth in need to defend himself - in need to say that he had survived that long, he was going to survive until the end of it - and then shut up when Abby gestured at a cabinet. “If you have the energy to protest, you have enough energy to prepare the table.”

Silence hung crookedly between them as they ate and Jean didn’t try to make conversation or stir anything up again. He guessed that his phone, now that he thought about it, would either be hidden well out of his reach, either because she hid it or it had been lost in the heat of the moment. Jean did as he was told, quietly cleaning the table and the dishes with her, while he wrestled between the disquietening pleasure of domestic activities and the growing panic crawling under his skin. Abby shoo’ed him back into bed, not without asking him if he wanted to indulge in books or anything else she could offer, which he declined. When he eased himself back under the blankets, he turned his sight back at the sky, taking in the hue, the birds, the clouds that floated by, unnerved by anything happening on the ground and free to go whereve the wind took them. The sensation of being suffocated returned, but in that, he indulged in quite willingly.

It was in the later part of afternoon, when the sky was already coloured bright orange red from the setting sun, that Jean startled out of his doze when the door opened to let in both, Renee, who he had half heartedly waited for, and Kevin, who he thought had gone from pale to green and all the other colours of blatant terror upon seeing his former teammate’s condition. The bandages for the broken nose and his generally fucked up face possibly made things worse than they seemed. Renee broke the silence by greeting casually greeting Jean, taking up the place next to him. Kevin was still frozen stiff, but he moved closer after Renee hinted at the purpose of Kevin being there.  
“We have something to offer to you, Jean. Please hear us out, before you give us your answer.” She smiled at him. He felt sick.

Kevin, as eloquent as he was, got straight to the point. “I pitched you to the USC Trojans. Jeremy Knox and Coach Rhemann are willing to have you transfer to their team when you start your senior year.”  
Jean felt like he momentarly passed out from the first sentence alone, and the anguish that shook through his whole body must have been tangible enough for Kevin to lose even more colour. Renee added “They are a great team. We played them last friday and their energy was very engaging.”  
“I know.”, Jean replied quietly, too out of it to soften his voice for her, even though he was very well aware that she didn’t need the gentle treatment. Especially not when he knew it was her who somehow got her hands in pulling him out of Evermore. She caught his expression and there was a short tug at the corner of her mouth, encouraging him in her own way. He looked back up at Kevin, but still unconvinced.  
“I don’t know if you forgot where we started, but I’m returning to Riko. If he finds out where I am, and he will, he will hunt me down for good.”  
Kevin opened his mouth, but Jean continued. “Giving me to the Trojans won’t protect me from him, Kevin. I’m-”, he swallowed back the bile. “-his property. I’m not going anywhere.”  
“I have connections that will look into Evermore and everything Riko and Coach Moriyama have done up till now. The chairman of Edgar Allan, I told you, let you leave with me, so the truth doesn’t come out. He doesn’t expect you to return, Jean.”, again, Renee’s hand found his, this time with a firm grip and heated skin. “Your contract with the Ravens will be cancelled and the Trojans will take you, if you’d just let them. I want you to know that you have a chance at freedom, but it’s also your decision to make.”  
Jeans head roared with pain and everything in his body felt as if it was going up in flames at the prospect, at the past, at the possible future her words held. “This-.. This is a gamble.”, he whispered, despair licking his voice, while his eyes locked with Kevin’s. “I can’t bet my life on strangers.”  
Kevin, still just as pale, but with conviction in his voice, replied,  
“What else do you have to lose?”

-

Several days ago, Jean had noticed the empty table from across his bed where he had suspected a TV station to be set up that was removed to not distress him in case he ever decided to watch what the press was throwing about these days; and his suspicions were confirmed, when he asked Abby if she’d had recorded the match between the Trojans and the Foxes. She made it a point not to ask him to carry and build up the station back into the room where he stayed and threatened him with extra bland hospital-esque food. Which wasn’t a threat per se, but he couldn’t deny that she at least tried to change his aura of loom and doom. Abby put the record in the player and pressed the remote into his hand, before she left him to his devices. 

There was a bit of fumbling involved before he could start, and he immediately crossed to the point where the starting line up were announced for both sides. That the Trojans would go for a reduced number of people that didn’t know how to play full games, made him almost sneer in disbelief, but the numbers and names were clear on the screen. He watches the players go back and forth the field, racquets crossing and balls flying, but neither side would ever foul the other party. The decision for the cut in start up though already showed its effects at the start of the second half of the game. Jean shook his head. Everything they did were against what he knew from the Ravens, from their ideals, to gameplay, to this starry eyed white knight ideology that provoked nothing but disgust from the back of his throat. His revulsion was interrupted by a knock on the door and he paused the game right when Kevin and Neil passed the Trojan defense line. 

There was a silence, and another knock, more careful than the first one and Jean found it almost frightening for his privacy to be met with such respect. Abby and Renee had poked their heads in uninvited, but that was just in case he was still asleep. “Yes?”, he asked, subconsciously making himself sit up. The door opened and in came the sun kissed captain of the Trojans, in the flesh and by himself. “Hello!”, he greeted, closing the door behind him and already marching towards Jean, who was, for the lack of a better word, spooked beyond measure. Before he could reply, Jeremy stretched his hand towards him, giving him a confident smile.

“My name is Jeremy Knox. You’re Jean Moreau, right? It’s nice to meet you.” Jean slowly met his hand halfway and gave him a short lived, but firm shake.  
“Nice to meet you.”, he echoed, not quite sure how much truth there was to his words.  
“I’m sure you already know, but I’m the captain of the USC Trojans Exy team.” He dragged the chair that had been used by Renee closer and placed himself there. “I’m one of the Strikers, 5’7” tall, am a dog person, but the dorms won’t let us keep pets, and also love the colour green, but don’t tell anyone.” Jeremy winked at him. Jean was helpless.  
“Why,..” The light beaming from his man might blind him to death, if that was even possible, and Jean felt his whole body wanting to move out of this brilliance and maybe hiss at it from as far, far away as he could. “Why are you telling me this?”  
The smile on his face softened a little, when Jeremy folded his hands and leaned his arms on his legs. “Kevin told me a lot about you, Moreau. Quite a lot.” He paused, searching Jean’s eyes. “I don’t pretend to ever know completely what you’ve gone through, but I heard you agreed to join the Trojans, and I want to make this as..” He grasped for words. “...agreeable for you as possible. I’m came here to deliver the paperwork, but also to introduce myself so you wouldn’t be thrown into cold waters when you transfer over.  
We’ve seen what you can do on the court and, honestly, it’s amazing, and we all have agreed on waiting for your recovery.” Jeremy’s words were warm and honest, and his eyes would keep Jean’s company. “We welcome you anytime you’re ready.”  
There was a beat in the conversation that Jean missed, too caught up in the words he was offered and the chance of having something to turn outside of Evermore that wasn’t a hospital or a graveyard. His breathing was flat, but he managed not to bristle at the thought and found his thumb brushing over the remote, curious, but unable to push. “I understand.”, he said, unable to add more to the exchange. “Thank you.”

Jeremy caught the movement and followed to the TV screen with the still paused game. Eyebrows were raised. “It’s the game against the Foxes, last Friday.”, he recognized and leaned a little closer to get a better view, but aware enough to not impede on Jean’s personal space. “Will you let me watch it with you? My flight back is not until midnight, so I’ll be all yours if you’ll have me.” He turned back to Jean and flashed him a wide grin.  
Jean frowned. “Cinderella?”  
The question earned him a hearty laugh. “Humor! I like that. Keep it up, Moreau.”

The two of them spent the next hour watching the game together, and while Jeremy admitted that he already revisited it with his entire team and their coach, he didn’t mind watching it again just to hear Jean’s opinion on the matter. The captain shrugged their defeat off without any bitter aftertaste, saying that they had done what they were able to - also meaning that this game was a good basework of what they already have and what they could build on. Jean meanwhile had held back his biting comments as best as he could, outwardly calm, but his inwards were twisting about the failure of that team. He didn’t call him His team just yet, and he didn’t know if he was ever going to.  


“I don’t understand.”, he said as his nerves laid ragged from holding back against the optimism radiating from the Trojan captain. “Even before you started the game, you had already thrown it all out, and you’re still proud?”  
“We’re proud because we gave it all we could.”  
“You could have done that in a practice match.”  
“That’s not as exciting, now, is it?”  
“Maybe you just don’t like winning?”  
Jeremy laughed, irking forward a disapproving frown from Jean. “Believe me, we love winning just as much as everyone else does. But winning doesn’t always mean that you’re the better athlete.”  
“You’re saying the Trojans are the best athletes?”  
“We just might be.”

It was as if the air around them dropped several degrees and along with the cold came a silence, quiet and potent, between the two. Jean was still too fresh out of the Nest to let go of his Raven pride and his hours spend in drills and obsessive training to have anyone tell him, to his face, that they are better than him. He never reached the degree of one mindedness that Kevin and Riko had for the sports, but he did know where to place his pride. His eyes were bolt, cold, relentless - but to his surprise, Jeremy’s eyes were still as warm as they’d been before, when his smile reached his eyes.

“You’re just like Kevin, huh?”  
“Am not.”, Jean shot back, and Jeremy laughed again. “Don’t compare me to him.”  
He stifled his voice with the back of his hand, eyes careful on Jean’s stern face. They wandered along the bandages, the broken nose and some stitches that trailed along his jaw but had been uncovered to air. When he removed his hand, the smile was still there, small, almost unassuming, and he sighed just so quietly.  
“I’m glad you still have fight in you.”, Jeremy said. “When he told me about you, I didn’t know what to expect, coming here all unannounced, I mean.”  
Jean noticed how he massaged his fingers.  
“I must’ve spooked you a little, sorry about that. But I really wanted to get my point across.”  
“You could have called.”, he returned coolly.  
“That’s not the same.”

Jean didn’t understand whatever point Jeremy tried to get across and he couldn’t bring himself to care that much either, now that there was only paperwork left betweeen them to sign Jean up to the Trojans. He would play his last remaining years at their University, work through whatever team constellation and games they would put him on - and ask to perhaps not be at the starting line up, whenever they would come to face the Ravens in a match. He didn’t know how to look Riko in the eye, not after this, and just thinking that he might have been freed from Riko - no. He stopped his thoughts. He was never going to be free. His eyes trailed off back to the sky, stretching endlessly above him, welcoming its choking effects on his incoming wave of panic.  
Jeremy was quiet next to him, and Jean felt just a notch off kilter when he grew aware of it. He turned to him, searching his face. There was something to it, the way he looked at him, the way he tried to be careful and forthcoming, and it had Jean wanting to retreat as far back as possible, smitten by this relentless and open display of warmth. Slowly, he caved in.

“I don’t understand you.”  
“That’s fine.”  
“I will never understand you.”, Jean continued.  
“That’s unfortunate, but I can handle it.”  
“You. And anyone like you.”

Jeremy fell silent as they kept looking at each other, searching for clues in their expressions, for the right things to say at the right time. Jean didn’t find it in him to be nice, didn’t know how to, so he opted for clearing the field right away, before things would complicate themselves later on. “I’m not like you.” Jean’s voice was just above a whisper; cold threat thinly veiling his tongue. “I will give you my game, but don’t ask for more than you can take or I’m willing to offer.”  
He saw Jeremy’s jaw clench and his throat move as he swallowed, fingers now firmly lacing into another. There was it again, an emotion ghosting over Jeremy’s eyes that Jean didn’t know how to name, something that wasn’t the usual kindness, something less warm, but nothing hostile, quite the opposite. It agitated him, adding another edge to the man before him, he didn’t know if he could even trust, but had to rely on him nonetheless in some regards. If he was planning on keeping his sanity for the next years, he would be better off knowing every curve and sliver to this man, before paranoia would drag him off to places he’d rather not be thinking of. Not right now, or ever.  


Jeremy’s voice broke the silence. He was calm, his words displayed the sort of acceptance, that promised to never yield; to never let Jean's or even his own demons force them to their knees. His fingers were losely intertwined, resting still in his lap. “I understand.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Moreau in the aftermath of Riko Moriyama's death.

“This isn’t funny, Renee.”

When the news reached his ears that Riko Moriyama shot himself in the head at the end of the Raven vs. Fox game, Jean Moreau’s face contorted into something bizarre, something ugly and cruel, and it was definitely not grief.

“It’s true, Jean. He’s gone.”  
“No.”

Jean’s voice felt coarse in his throat, as if he had been screaming for days on end, not that he didn’t know what that felt like in reality. However, the thought of this - the essence of this message and all the consequences trailing behind, just to swing at his lungs at full force was something he could’nt just leave to sink in his guts. His expression ragged the stitches; he might pull something. He might have already done so.

“Non, non.”

A gurgled noise ripped through his lungs. It was laughter, but also disbelief. His body trembled more with each moment passed, even as he was still sitting up on his bed, with Renee sitting faithfully at his side. 

Renee didn’t show any emotion, other than perhaps general concern for the parted skin of his face. She didn’t try to soothe him, either, and perhaps it was for the better of it. He licked over his lips, but felt nothing. His mouth, his throat, all dried out. He turned away, staring out the window at a striking blue sky. Somehow, he needed to pull himself together. Somehow, he needed to relearn how to breathe.

“If you need anything-”  
“Leave me alone.” He interrupted her, his pale hands clenched tight, sorry that his voice was this rough towards her. “Just. Sorry. I need.. space.”

Jean didn’t see her nod, but heard her standing up and leaving for the door. “I’ll be in the living room. Take your time.” The door clicked softly shut.

It was then when he was all alone that he felt himself slowly, but surely, fall apart completely. The determination to keep himself reigned in at all times crumbled beneath his hands; against his palms now pressed tight, was nothing but his face; pulled to all sides into madness and screaming. He was screaming. He felt it in his lungs, in his throat, he heard his own voice deafening his ears, and his fingernails screatching his scalp, scratching off the bandages and tearing at the stitches. All of this, all of this, Jean repeated in his mind, successfully tearing off thread by thread.

“All of this is your god damn fault, and now you’re-.. you’re--”

The man choked on his own voice, let himself fall back into the mattress with all of his body aching, as if the wounds inflicted by Riko burned up again. All of them. At once.  
He opened his mouth, wanted to curse at the world that had forsaken him, curse at his family for abandoning his son as if he was somekind of token, curse at his own miserable life for taking turns worse and worse and worse, and curse at Riko, who allowed himself the easy way out. All that he mustered up through this noise in his head were more screams. More desperate calls for nothing and no person in particular. Perhaps, really, at God.

His legs swung off the bed in need to excert his energy, his pent up frustration. He paced the room, up and down and left and right. He slammed his fist into the bed. Too soft. Jean cursed, sunk to his knees and screamed again; and even though his eyes burned, nothing came of it. Nothing ever came of it even at times he wished for this kind of carthasis and there have been more than enough times. Was this not finally the one time he was allowed to?

“You god damn. You god damn piece of. Shit. You fucking. Bastard. You monster. You MONSTER. YOU MONSTER. YOU DON'T DESERVE THE EASY WAY OUT.”

Riko’s laughter rang softly in his head. Jean was going insane.

Anger forced him back up again, blind in rage and the determination to redirect the pain caused by a now dead man, anywhere else but to himself, for he had suffered enough already. With a leap, he found himself at the tv station, and with another, the screen ontop of it smashed against the floor, cables pulling out receivers and flinging wildly after.

Jean exhaled, searched the room. A potted plant slammed next to the previous mess. He wanted to destroy something. Someone. But the one he wanted gone most was already gone, and there he was, all alone in his anger and ruined youth, with only himself and the scars he had been left with.

Another exhale, another moment standing still in a turning room with his scarred hands pressing into his face. No tears. Only silence. Only screams. 

His lung birthed terror, madness, and finally, grief. 

Not for the dead. 

Only for himself.

 

When Jean came to, he found his head pressed against something warm. Something soft. Something alive, with a heartbeat drumming in his ear, until he realized he had been holding onto Renee in his bed for what must have been hours, for the room was quiet and dark. He felt her chest rise steadily, his own confusion growing as to how they had ended up like this, as he pulled himself away to look at her face. She had been sleeping, probably, and woke up with his movements.

Jean wanted to apologize for whatever he had done. He remembered the items in the room he had broken. He might have done or said something to her that he didn’t mean, and wanted to apologize for that, too. His mouth opened, but Renee gave him a sleepy smile, shaking her head.

He stared at her, the soft features, the patience in her eyes. He stared for so long, he might have continued for another eternity, until he noticed his sight blurring and, to his own surprise, tears streaming from his eyes. Jean wanted to look away and hide himself from her, but somehow it was impossible for him to move. He pressed his lips to a thin line and hoped not to break down so obviously, that the night was merciful enough to hide his shame. Hide his pain and scars and life from her.

When Renee’s hand found his face he flinched at her kindness. A choked up noise escaped him, and as he closed his eyes, he finally allowed himself to yield.

Jean and Renee spent the night in silence. There was too much and nothing at all on Jean’s mind that he could have ever told her. How truly miserable he felt at times. How truly forsaken he was, from the moment he was abandoned, to even now. All the times he had been wronged. All the crimes committed to his body, his mind, his soul. He was in pieces, he knew it; he had been pulled dismantled bit by bit by bit, and now that those hands could not reach him anymore, he didn’t even have those to hold his pieces up anymore. 

Who was he, really, after all those years in disarray? Could he go back to his former self? Start life anew as if nothing had happened? Of course he couldn’t. He forgot, even though he didn’t want to acknowledge any of this, who he was before. He didn’t try to remember his parents’ faces either. He blamed them. And he blamed the world. And Riko. And now everything was gone.

Jean found his face pressed against Renee’s chest. She had wiped his face from tears and blood that leaked from the threads he had pulled out earlier. He felt the shame rise in him, for being so reckless, but Renee never flinched at his sight. She was the one who pulled his destroyed mess of a body out of the Nest and she was the one who also held him back from running all the way back to it. Jean sobbed, involuntarily, and Renee kept brushing the back of his head.

“Thank you.”, he said, but his voice broke and pitched all over the place. Jean tried it again, his breath unsteady. “Thank you.”

 

The next morning, Renee made it a point to tag alongside him wherever he went. Only once did she turn her attention away, and it was to make a call outside the room. She returned to his side, and stayed there, even while Abby was patching him up again, and when he was made to clean the room after he had demolished the tv screen, the potted plant, a chair, a closet door, and a lamp on his nightstand. She held the bags open for him to put the shards in, helped the turnt over desk back to its place, and helped him refresh the water as he mopped the floor.

Later on, they met Abby in the kitchen for lunch. Jean didn’t feel like eating, but he couldn’t turn either of them down, after everything they’ve done for him. He shoved what he got down, failed to taste anything, but shoved the second plate down, too, under the women’s watchful eyes. Stuffed, but empty, Abby made them clean the plates and the table. Jean and Renee divided the task. She had her fingers in gloves, he armed himself with several towels.

They would spend their time in silence, usually, now and then asking for little favours such as moving a dish here or there, now and then standing still when their eyes would meet. Sometimes, Jean could stand his ground and look at her longer than a moment, but other times, he couldn’t shake the night where he lost himself, and preferred to avert his eyes in shame. Renee didn’t touch on it. She also didn’t touch him.

Before he knew it, days passed in a steady rhythmn and it was as if nothing about the news of Riko’s death had changed anything in the world, not even Jean. He was still messed up and broken, but in comparison, he was very well alive and as much kicking as he possible could with multiple broken ribs and a stabwound. He searched the sky for something that would give him peace as if asking for the sky to strangle him unconscious. However, knowing Renee by his side made it less appealing to pass out, so he watched her read or knit or she’d talk to him about things. Like zombies, or what he thought of going on a vacation, either mountains or the beach. He didn’t care for either, but he did entertain her by answering whatever came to mind first. At least he tried.

He wandered off in his headspace, somewhere lofty and somewhere dark, he couldn’t tell whatever was going on, and he couldn’t tell her how he felt about it either. It weighed on his mind, but words escaped him whenever he tried to think of something, so he kept his mouth shut and his body still.

The other day, Renee delivered him the papers for the transfer from the Ravens to the Trojans and he signed everything with mind and fingers numb. How long had it been since he last held a pen in his hand - and how long had it been since one stabbed him in the flesh - he returned both, pen and paper to Renee, before the ink had dried.

“Coach Rhemann booked you a flight.”, she said, as she handed him the plane ticket. “It’s in two weeks from now, so you have plenty of time to prepare.. but I got your things already packed.”  
Jean considered her with quiet confusion.  
“I went back to Evermore and got them out of your room.. Your passport, papers, clothes and other belongings.” He didn’t even know if he wanted anything that could remind him of the time there. Renee paused.

“You’re a Trojan now, Jean.”, she said it as if to cheer him up or congratulate him, which puzzled him only more as he didn’t know how to react to it. Somewhere, in his mind, he was still in doubt that any of this was even real.  
“I am…” He stared at the ticket. Freedom, screamed in his mind. Riko is dead, screamed another voice. His fingers found the paper and held on to it as if it was the most delicate, yet most important thing in the world.

In the time between then and Jean’s flight, Renee went back to her training in the morning and classes in the afternoon. It seemed as if she was somehow granted an absence pass from Abby, to watch over him. He didn’t understand it at first, but the vacancy she left at his side made it hard for him to think clearly. It was an uneasiness that he didn’t notice before, when he was still recovering from the fresh wounds. He was more a sleepwalker, than anything else. Jean took his time to overlook the books in Abby’s shelf in the living room, before he found the title ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ and returned to his room empty handed.

Several times, whenever Renee would come to visit him again, he’d try to talk to her about all the things that had been going on in his mind. That he sometimes feared he had dreamed that he was here at all. That she might be a hallucination he dreamed up somewhere between life and death. That Riko wasn’t really gone at all. And then he grew quieter and quieter, the more pressing the voice in his head grew. There was no point in disturbing her, or, they were about to have dinner. Excuses over excuses, everyday, until it seemed as if he had missed his chance to ever talk to her again entirely.

The ride to the airport was organized by none other than Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard. Jean stared the two smaller men down as he left Abby’s house. He had said his goodbyes before, though she still trailed after him to the porch before giving him another firm handshake. Her eyes were soft, though. Jean mumbled out another “Thank you.”, before walking towards the two and their car. He had one bag with all of his belongings stuffed inside.

Andrew went to sit in the driver’s seat, Neil gestured Jean to sit in the back, and took the place beside him. Kevin, who wasn’t outside with the two, sat shotgun and looked as miserable as he had been when he told Jean about the Trojan deal.

The reason for this, among many others, possibly, unfolded itself after the engine started up and Neil laid the pact with Ichirou Moriyama bluntly before him.

Jean’s face was the colour of paper against his dark shirt.

“I’m still property.”, he concluded, staring ahead towards Kevin and caught his hand twitching restlessly. If he’d throw up, at least it would be right into Kevin’s neck.

“You’re still alive.”, Neil replied stone faced. “I’m just here to deliver the message. I don’t care if you take up the deal or not.”  
Jean turned to look at him, mouth dry. “I’m a dead man if I don’t.”  
“That’s a part of this ‘Being Alive’ deal, yeah.”  
“Funny, coming from someone who willingly took up that invite to Evermore last year.”  
“Stop crying over spilled milk. Riko is six feet under, he won’t come back.”

The words shook both Jean and Kevin at once, and to their surprise, it was Andrew who had spoken. Jean saw how Kevin clenched his left hand until the knuckles went white.

“You either live or die. It’s your choice, Moreau.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the kindness of strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide / suicidal thoughts

To his own surprise, the six hour flight from South Carolina to South California didn’t feel as much as a torture than he thought it might be, given his still wrecked body and the reveleation, that the only reason he was alive was the prospect of him earning the Moriyamas a little side cash from his career as star athlete. It seemed that things didn’t change, no matter where he went. He’d always be property of a Moriyama, until the day he drew his last breath, and then he considered, which didn’t even shock him as he turned it around and about in his head, when that would be. And how he’d end it.

Systematically, Jean began listing up methods, some he’d seen on movies or in games, or books he was allowed to read, some that came to him during one of Riko’s - he, quite honestly, didn’t know what to call them - sessions.

Needles, Knives, ropes, large bodies of water. Sleeping pills. Sedatives. Painkillers. Fire.

Thinking of Riko was as gut wrenching as ever and even though he recalled the message of him being dead, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up and down the plane’s floorway, just to be sure he hasn’t been fooled. He looked over his shoulder, over his seat. He stood up, pretending to see after his luggage, just to gain overview over the other guests. Whenever he spotted a much smaller, dark haired person, he’d freeze and double take, before he’d replay Renee’s voice in his head enough to push him out of his paranoia.

A first and last letter in black ink. Shaky handwriting. Maybe he’d try to make it pretty, maybe he’d try to keep his hand steady, ignoring the memories of his fingers being broken over and over again, to leave at least something worth looking at in the world. In her hands.

Jean’s eyes turned to his sides again, looking for someone to fill the vacancy next to him. It was more of a habit, he realized sooner than later, that he needed someone he knew to be around. Right now, there was only an old lady to his left and the floor to his right. Across the floor, sat a couple, leaning against each other and skimming throught leaflettes of their destination. Tourists.

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be as free as them, though in that he found the joke that he was, indeed as free as them - or, as free as he’d ever get with Moriyama’s leash around his throat, yet loose enough to let him run up and about wherever he wanted to, as long as he’d keep up the deal. Was this really freedom? Was this a life worth living? 

As Jean sank into the seat and ran through the list of methods on how to end his pain, something caught in his peripheral vision. He blinked, turned, and saw the old lady offering him a wrapped piece of candy.

“No, uh-”, he started, but the lady shook her head.  
“Young man, you’re so tall, but there is nothing on your bones. Go get some.”  
“I thank you, but-”  
“You gonna see your girl in California?”  
The only girl he could possibly think of was Renee, to which his face warmed up. “No.”  
“So you leaving her? You scoundrel.”

Jean’s mouth opened, but to his surprise it pulled into a smile he tried to hide behind his palm as he shook his head. The lady grinned at him, pulled on his other hand to press the candy into his palm.

“Don’t be so moody, son. You’re still young. Enjoy life.”

After the plane landed, Jean helped her with the luggage and followed her through the gates, until she was greeted by her family that counted two parents, another two grandchildren, and one infant, clutching tightly around the mother’s neck. Their welcoming cheers and radiance was nothing more than discomforting to the tall man, but he kept his press ready smile glued on his face, while the old lady bragged about what a handsome man she had made carry her things. ‘She’s still got it’, he heard her say. When the family left, she left with them, but not before giving him a well meant, hearty pat on the arm. And then, he was all alone.

“Jean!”

Jeremy’s voice called out to him through the crowd, his smile as beaming as ever. Jean hesitated for a moment, before meeting him halfway.

“Glad you made it. Sorry, I wasn’t here earlier, got stuck in traffic and all. The team’s already so excited to see you.” Their handshake was short lived, but firm, like the first time.

“But I guess you’re still tired from the flight? I promised them they get to see you by tomorrow before training. I’ll help you pick a schedule, and how to get around the campus. Also, we’re having a little get together later that evening. We didn’t want to make it a big deal out of it, but, I mean, we’re still 28 heads plus you!” 

Jeremy’s laughter was either genuine amusement, which Jean failed to understand, or a stress relief for a type of nervousness, Jean didn’t know what to do with it either. Or a mix of both. Jean glanced off to the side to stop being blinded.

“We still have to fetch your luggage, right? Which way is it?”  
“This.” Jean held up his single bag.  
“This?”  
“This is all.”

As if caught off guard, Jeremy stared at him, seemingly puzzling together the pieces of the man before him, and the next step to take without scaring him off. Not as if Jean was ever going to fear a man like Jeremy Knox.

“I see. Well. Less to carry.” His smile returned, now a little softer. Something about it irked Jean, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. “Let’s go.”

 

The ride from the airport to the campus was mostly wordless, with only the radio filling the silence between them. They played older songs, as far as Jean could tell. He distracted himself by watching the scenery fly by, with all of his belongings ontop of his lap.

After Jeremy turned into the dorm’s parking lot and killed the engine, Jean opened the door to find his legs half way giving in as he tried to stand. Exhaustion must have crept into him before he knew it, but he pulled himself together and closed the door. The car was locked and Jeremy gestured towards the dorm entrance, as Jean followed him obediently.

They only passed few other students, some of them greeting Jeremy with a bright cheer, others nodded briefly before they sank back into their books. Jeremy always returned the gesture, sometimes midsentence, while he was explaining to Jean the different rooms and locations in the dorm. The basement had space for washing machines, bikes, and other equipment that one didn’t need as daily life necessity. The first floor had two group rooms equipped with tvs, bookshelves and a billiard table. Each floor had two bathrooms with several shower stalls. To each side of the stairways were six separate dormrooms. Each room fitted two beds, two desks and two dressers.

Jeremy elaborated that not every member of their team stayed in the dorms, so their team only booked one floor. Food was to be found in the cafeteria in the main campus building, though the administration would need a heads up and an extra fee if one wanted to stay and eat there during breaks. Jean wondered about the prices already, since there was no place he could possibly spent his breaks at, other than locked up in his room with a hopefully missing roommate. Jeremy unlocked the door at the far end of the floor and gestured Jean to go inside.

To his left, the setup was just as Jeremy described it. There were fresh sheets stacked ontop of a blanket and a mattress, and the window opened to a tree, just some space apart. Jean considered the chances of climbing out of there, if the door was ever locked and he needed a way out.

The right side of the room was brimming with pictures of cheery teammembers either after a game, at a bar, at a party, or some other gatherings. There were pictures of people he didn’t recognize from the team, too, and an elderly couple on a front porch with a dog sleeping at their feet. Lined up on the desk were books for several classes, math caught his eye first, and another about health. There were several magazines stacked ontop of the made bed. The first cover read something about motorbikes.

“So, uh, I’ll be your roommate, from now on.” Jeremy said from behind him as he closed the door. Jean watched him move towards the desk and pull out a giftbox, wrapped in red and gold, and offered it to him. “Here’s your welcome gift.”

The taller man stared at him for a while before he’d take it. “You shouldn’t have.”, he replied, quietly, wanting to put the box into his own desk and never look at it again.

“Aw, come on, open it. Don’t worry, it’s not only from me. The team gathered up for it. It was Renee’s idea.”  
Her name was like a magical word that would excuse every silly thing Jeremy, or anyone, would throw at him, and he wanted to curse, but couldn’t. Gingerly, he walked up to his bed to sit down and remove the bag from his shoulders, before he started unwrapping the box.

From the inside greeted him a new sleek white phone, not the newest model, but one that he knew was quite expensive. He gave Jeremy another look, but he only beamed at him. Jean pulled it out, turned it in his hand and noticed a card previously underneath.

‘You’ve got a message.’ it said.

When he turned it on, there was indeed a voice message for him. Jeremy took one look at the screen and excused himself out of the room. Jean fiddled about, until he managed to open the message, and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Jean.”, Renee’s voice greeted him from the other end. The man felt as if he’d been punched in the throat. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to send you off when you leave, but I wanted to make sure that we will keep in contact, and I’ll be there whenever you need me. I’m sorry, I couldn’t actually find your phone when I got you out of Evermore. Did you know? I asked Jeremy about adding towards the new one as a welcoming gift, and then he was already on and about asking the whole team.” She laughed. “They’re nice people, Jean, it might take some time to get used to them, but they really care. I hope you keep resting until you’ve healed up enough. Please don’t dive into things you’re not ready for.”

A pause. He didn’t know if she meant being on the court or the mental strain of being out of the nest and faced with a crowd of strangers that could not be more different than the Ravens.

“Well, I’ll be off. My number is already saved, just give me a ring or send a message when you’re settled. And give Jeremy my thanks, okay? Talk to you later.”

For a while, Jean stared blankly at the floor, then pulled the screen into his field of vision, before he figured out how to replay the message. He listened to her, over and over again, perhaps to fill the void that her presence left at his side. Her voice became just that, a voice, the content of the message wasn’t important anymore. Jean closed his eyes when his head met the naked pillow, while Renee’s voice kept echoing softly in the background. Before he knew it, he drifted off into dreamless slumber.


End file.
